


Habit

by SassyEverlarking



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 14:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3695534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyEverlarking/pseuds/SassyEverlarking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a day to day process for him. Regaining the trust of his family after he put them through so much hell. Learning to accept his mistakes while trying to move forward and reconnect with those he loves. Written for Prompts in Panem's Dreamscape Week, Day 6 - 'Ashes'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Habit

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This story deals with substance abuse and addiction. Special thank you to Everlark_Pearl (ashyblondwaves on Tumblr) for helping me with this story.

When he opens his eyes, Peeta half expects to find himself staring at the bland yellow wallpaper he’d woken up to for the past three months. Like the last two weeks had only been a dream and he was still confined to the same single room where he was sure he’d been through the biggest hell of his life. Instead, he takes in the other side of the far too big, far too comfortable bed he’s tucked into. It’s empty, but he’s more happy to see it’s not a figment of his imagination than anything else.

Sitting up, he brushes a hand through his errant curls and yawns. Glancing to his left, he eyes the clock on the bedside table. 10:30 AM. He’s still not used to being able to sleep in so late. Even before he’d gone away, getting up early had been the norm for him. In more recent years, it had been more he hadn’t ever gone to bed by the time his wake up call rolled around.

The sound of dishes being jostled around in the kitchen carries in through the partially open bedroom door and Peeta turns his head in that direction. He listens closely and can hear the murmuring of voices. There’s a pang in his chest. Those sounds are another thing he’s not used to. Like they belong to another world he doesn’t fit into anymore.

He pulls in a deep breath and throws back the covers.  _No._ He isn’t going to think like that. Doctor Aurelias had told him he can’t let himself get caught up in the past. That he needs to live in the here and now and learn to accept the mistakes he’s made.

Peeta swings his legs over the edge of the bed and pushes himself up, determined to be a part of his family again now that he’s been given another chance to do so.

——

Katniss is standing at the counter, divvying up pancakes onto plates, when Peeta makes his way into the kitchen. He steps over to her and wraps an arm around her waist. She startles, like she’s as unused to him being there as he is. Peeta ignores the way such a thought makes him feel, instead choosing to press a kiss to side of her neck.

“Morning.” He murmurs against her skin. He gives her waist a firm squeeze.

She smiles and turns her face to meet his. “Morning.” She mimics and presses a kiss to his lips. “Just in time for breakfast.”

Peeta pulls away from her and glances down at the plates. He places his hand on her back and rubs it up and down. “Smells good.” He smiles softly at her.

“Daddy!”

A small, solid mass slams into his legs. Peeta lets out an exaggerated ‘oomph’ and braces himself against the counter with the palms of his hands. Glancing down, he sees his four year old daughter beaming up at him like he’s the light of her life. He thanks the heavens that at least one of his children still feels such a way.

“Good morning, Lilybeans.” He laughs and bends down to scoop her up into his arms.

“We’re having pantapes!” She whispers excitedly. He can smell the maple syrup on her breath and he wonders just how many ‘pantapes’ she’s already had.

“I see that!” He whispers back and places a quick kiss to the tip of her nose. Lily giggles and buries her face against his neck. Peeta tries to not let himself get overcome with emotion, but it’s almost overwhelming to have his child embracing him with such affection. How she’s come out completely unscathed by his mistakes, he’s not really sure. He places a hand against the back of her head, cradling her to him.

His eyes flit up to Katniss, who looks on the verge of tears as well. When their gazes meet, she lets out a gush of air, as if to steel herself. Normal. They had decided the best way to get back into the swing of things was to act as normal as possible. And getting worked up over a girl showing her dad a little bit of love was anything but.

“Lily, why don’t you help daddy carry the plates to the table?” Katniss says after she clears her throat, an exaggerated cheeriness to her tone.

Lily pulls back from Peeta and wiggles to get free. “Okay!” Peeta lowers her down to the floor and she immediately sticks her hands out. He chuckles at her enthusiasm and hands her the smallest plate. She turns towards the kitchen table and marches purposely towards it. Picking up the remaining plates, Peeta follows her.

“Morning, Riley.” He says as he approaches the chair occupied by his son. The ten year old glances up from the device in his hand, his grey eyes wide and unsure as they take in Peeta.

“Morning…” He mumbles back hesitantly. Like he’s waiting for Peeta to snap at him for playing the 3DS at breakfast. Peeta doesn’t blame him for the expectation. Two weeks is not enough time to erase a long history of unpredictable breakfast time with dad.

So Peeta smiles in what he hopes is a comforting and accepting sort of way. “Pancake delivery.”

Riley’s eyes shift from him to the plate and then back. He slowly places the device in his hands in his lap so he can reach out and take the plate. Peeta nods once, keeping the smile on his face as he moves towards the empty chair at end of the table, just to Riley’s left. As he slides into it, he sees that Lily has clammered her way onto her chair and is already dumping liberal amounts of syrup over her latest batch of pancakes.

His attention shifts to Riley, who now has the 3DS sitting on the table and is alternating between playing and eating, forgoing the syrup just as he always has. Satisfied with the state of his two youngest children, he slowly glances to his left. Cara Mellark sits in the lone chair on side of the table that faces the wall. She is scowling at her phone, with one leg pulled up onto the chair and bent at the knee.

Peeta holds out a plate to her, eyebrows raised. “Good morning?”

She snatches the plate, dropping it loudly on the table in front of her. Never once do her eyes leave her phone or does she actively acknowledge Peeta has said anything to her at all. She doesn’t seem to care that she’s caused both her siblings to jump in surprise, or that her mother is now shooting her a frustrated look as she lowers herself into the seat across from Peeta.

Looking to Katniss, Peeta finds she’s turned her eyes on him. She gives him a shrug and a small, apologetic smile. He closes his eyes, using the silent encouragement his wife has just given him to move past another unsuccessful interaction with his oldest daughter.

He lets out a calming breath and opens his eyes. Setting his own plate down at last, he goes about preparing his pancakes to his liking. His eyes glance up at his son as he slathers butter over one of the fluffy little slabs. “So what game is that, Riley?”

——-

“She hates me.” He mumbles, accepting the mug of tea Katniss is holding out to him.

She sighs as she settles herself onto the wicker couch beside him, tucking her feet under her. She cradles her own mug between her hands. “She doesn’t hate you, Peeta.”

Peeta snorts before raising the tea to his lips for a tentative sip. Licking his lips after he’s swallowed, he places the mug on the little glass top table next to the couch. “Katniss, she hasn’t talked to me since I came home.” He adjusts slightly so he is facing her more than the backyard that stretches out beyond their screened-in porch. She’s focused intently on blowing at the steam rising up from her cup. “She didn’t come with you when you came to visit. Lily and Riley came, but Cara? She doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

“She’s hurting,” Katniss answers with a shrug, her grey eyes sad but understanding. “Your addiction was harder on her than anyone else. She watched her daddy, who she respected and loved more than anyone else in this world, turn into a monstrous version of himself. You can’t blame her for that.”

“I don’t.” Peeta clarifies immediately, shaking his head emphatically. “I just,” He closes his eyes and shrugs helplessly. “How do I make it better?”

He both hears and feels Katniss shifting on the cushions, and then feels her pressing up against his side. Something passes in front of his chest and he opens his eyes to see she has placed her tea on the table beside his. Instead of pulling her arm back completely, she rests her hand on his left shoulder and uses it to help pull herself into his lap. Peeta instinctively wraps his arms around her middle, anchoring her in place with his hands splayed out against her back.

“Be patient.” Katniss says simply, her head tilted a little bit to the side. If causes her hair to fall in a black wave down the side of her face. “She’ll come around on her own time. She’s mad and she’s wounded and is too stubborn for her own good,” At that, Peeta lets out a small, airy laugh. Katniss smiles, knowing he’s thinking that Cara gets that all from her. “But she’s gonna need you, Peeta.”

“How can you be so sure?” He questions.

Katniss places her hand against his chest, fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his shirt. “I need you.” She’s watching her fingers and not him, unable to look him in the eyes. Normal wasn’t the only thing they’d decided on when it was time for him to come home. Honesty was also very important, starting with being honest with each other.

Removing one of his hands from her back, he brings it around so he can brush the wave of hair away from her face and cup her cheek. She slowly raises her grey eyes to meet his.

“I hurt people, Katniss.” Peeta whispers. “I hurt you and our kids.”

“You did.” Katniss nods and then sucks in a deep breath. “But now you’re fixing it. We’re moving forward, not back, right? That’s what the doctor told us, isn’t it?”

Peeta closes his eyes and presses his forehead to hers. “I’m trying.” He lets out a ragged breath and pulls back slightly, looking at her once more. “I’m trying, but god it’s so hard.”

Her fingers find their way up into his hair, passing through the blond curls tenderly. “Addiction isn’t easy, honey.” A part of him, the old side of him that’s now constantly dying for a fix, wants to snap something like ‘how would you know’. But he doesn’t let that part overpower him like he used to. Because Katniss does know. She’s had a lifetime of knowing it, between her mother and now her husband.

“But loving you? That’s a lot easier than I ever thought it could be, even now.” She adds and he notes the shine of tears in her eyes. It matches his own, he’s sure. He leans forward to kiss her fiercely, letting the feel of her against him and the soothing evening sounds around them ease his frazzled thoughts, if only for a few moments.

——-

Riley and Lily are practically jumping out of their skin, they’re so anxious to leave the house. Peeta is torn between feeling sympathetic to all who have to deal with their boundless energy today, and remorseful that he won’t be there to experience it himself. He’d much rather be there, but various circumstances wouldn’t allow it.

Katniss brushes past him, throwing the front door open dramatically. “Go, before you two break something.” The pair scamper out into the yard and Katniss turns back to Peeta with a roll of her eyes. “God give me strength.” She steps closer to him, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“And they haven’t even had any candy or cake yet.” He smirks.

With a groan, Katniss drops her head so her forehead is resting against his chest. “I really wish you were coming.”

Peeta lets out a reluctant huff of air. It ruffles the hair at the top of Katniss’ head. “Me too.” Katniss pulls back and gives him the most pathetic look. “Gale wouldn’t let me on the property, let alone in the house, even if I did try to come with you.” Because the last time Peeta had been to the Hawthorne residence, he’d been blitzed out of his mind and had gotten into it with Gale. That had been almost a year ago. Their longtime friendship hadn’t recovered since. He’s pretty sure it never will, at this point.

“And can you imagine  _that_  plastered all over the gossipsphere?” He gives her a knowing look. “ _Peeta Mellark even gets kicked out of kids’ parties these days.”_

Katniss makes a face at the fictitious headline, but looks away in clear indication that she knows he is right. “Yeah, I know.” A shriek, followed by two childish calls for ‘mommy!’, carries in from outside. “I guess I better get them out of here before they destroy the lawn and I have to pay Johanna thousands of dollars to fix it  _again_.” She grumbles.

“Probably wise.” He snorts and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Have a good time.”

She squeezes him and pecks his lips gently. “Be good while I’m gone.” She steps away, pausing at the coatrack by the door to pulled her satchel off it and over her shoulder. It’s followed by her ever present camera. “Look over some of the stuff Haymitch sent you while you have the house to yourself.”

“That’s the plan.” Peeta thrusts his hands into his jean pockets and rocks on his feet. He smiles when she comes rushing back over to kiss him one more time. Then she’s dashing back towards the open doorway. As she turns to pull the door closed, Katniss stops.

He raises his eyebrows curiously. “Yes?”

“Cara’s out with her friends, so there’s no telling when she’ll be home.” There is an uncertain look on her face and she bites her lip. “I think we’ll be back before then, but if not…”

Peeta shrugs. “It’ll still be like having the house to myself.” He jokes darkly, earning an unimpressed scowl from Katniss. He pulls one hand out of his pocket and waves her off. “Go. It’ll be fine.”

She looks at him like she doesn’t believe him and he waves his hand again. She rolls her eyes and finally closes the door. Peeta deflates slightly, already feeling exhausted from putting on a good face. It’s tough having to stay home while his family goes out and has fun. But it’s the price he has to pay, he supposes, for letting his addiction take over every aspect of his life. Ruining his life, for a time. Still, he wishes he could be helping Katniss get Lily and Riley settled into the car. Wishes he hadn’t alienated his friend so he could go to his godson’s birthday party. Wishes he wasn’t so terrified of the idea of Cara coming home and there being no buffer between her and him.

——-

He has to hand it to Haymitch. How his agent has managed to find him work, after he destroyed his own reputation with partying and drugs, has to be some kind of miracle. Peeta was positive he’d burned every bridge in the industry. That no self-respecting big name Hollywood  _anybody_ would want to work with the likes of him anymore.

Yet here he sits on his living room couch, reading over a script that Plutarch Heavensbee, of all people, has sent to him. It’s not a big part. Certainly nothing like the roles he used to be offered on golden platters, back when he was still the golden boy of Hollywood. Peeta easily recalls when things had shifted - when he had gone from a cute, child actor out of rustic North Carolina to the A-List celebrity that everybody wanted a piece of. He also easily recalls when everybody wanting a piece of him became too much and he turned to extremes to keep himself afloat. He had once been heralded as the cool-headed country boy who was raising a family in the spotlight. Now he’s the washed out, drugged out use-to-be who nearly tore his family apart.

Still, if Plutarch is looking to have him in something, it could mean that he hasn’t completely scorched all the earth behind him. Peeta sets the script aside and picks up his cellphone. He shoots off a quick text to Haymitch, saying he’ll need to talk to Katniss first but otherwise he’s in. He doesn’t even have the chance to set the phone down before Haymitch is texting him back. He waits, slightly anxious, as the ellipses flash on the screen.

‘ _Expect some hoops to jump through, both from Plutarch and the studio. Make you wish you were back in the druggie clink kind of hoops.’_

Peeta rolls his eyes at yet another of Haymitch’s colorful descriptions for rehab. As a “functioning alcoholic”, the older man has a certain aversion to sobriety for himself. Says he doesn’t need it. It had actually been one of the points Peeta had argued back when he was fighting all those who wanted him to clean up his act. ‘ _If Haymitch can do it…’_ And one of the points that had ultimately convinced Peeta he needed the help was Haymitch telling him ‘ _you don’t wanna be like me. Trust me.’_

He taps out an ‘I understand’ in return and then tosses his phone onto the coffee table.. He decides it’s a good time to take a break from trying to salvage his career, pushing himself up from the couch so he can make his way to the kitchen. His immediate instinct, when he opens the fridge, is to reach for a cold beer. But Peeta knows better and grabs for a bottle of apple juice instead. He wasn’t an alcoholic. Drugs had always been his poison of choice, namely an extremely addictive drug that went by the name of ‘Nightlock’. But chemical dependency was a habit that repeated, and one Saturday beer could easily turn into something nasty and ongoing.

Sighing, Peeta eases the fridge door shut and gazes out the window over the sink as he twists off the cap of his apple juice. The backyard spans out in lush greens and pretty summer flowers. He moves closer to the window, sipping from the bottle and taking a moment to memorize the image before him. Maybe he’ll paint it. Katniss has been encouraging him to get back into painting,  saying if the acting world can’t accept that he’s a little rough around the edges now, the art world would eat it right up. He’s not sure how he feels about exploiting his darkness, but putting feelings out onto canvas has been a big part of his healing process.

Movement from within the confines of the screened-in porch catches his eye and Peeta frowns. He leans slightly to get a better look at who’s there. The frown deepens, brows pinching together in confusion, when he sees it’s Cara. He sets his apple juice down on the counter and moves over to the door to the porch a couple feet away.

He swings the door open and steps out, taking in his sixteen year old perching on the edge of the wicker couch he and Katniss had been on a few nights earlier. Questions spring to mind as he slowly steps closer. Why is she here? Wasn’t she supposed to be hanging out with her friends? Did something happen? Is she okay? Would she even tell him if she wasn’t?

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Is what he finally settles on, eying the cigarette she places against her lips for a quick drag.

Cara snorts, smoke billowing out of her nose. “You don’t know a lot of things about me.”

Peeta drops his attention to the wooden deck at his feet and nods, trying to ignore the twinge in his chest at her words. It’s the first real thing that she’s said to him since he’s come home. And it hurts. But it’s the truth. He can’t deny it. “That’s fair.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and continues to stare at the deck. An awkward silence grows around them, punctuated periodically by Cara exhaling smoke. Peeta glances up at her cautiously, expecting her to be glaring at him to go away. But she’s not. Instead, her gaze is focused out towards the yard, though he can see her thoughts are a million miles away.

He sighs and nods again, accepting that this was the extent of their interaction. He opens his mouth to say something to her before he goes back inside, but everything sounds so contrived in his head. So he simply turns on his heels and starts retracing his steps to the door. He needs to get inside so he can text Katniss. It’s not fine, him and Cara alone together. This little thing between them just now is a harsh reminder that he’s lost his connection with his daughter, and that he rightfully doesn’t really deserve one anymore.

“I get it.”

Peeta freezes at Cara’s words. He spins around to face her again. She’s still staring out into the yard. He frowns in confusion. “Get what?” He asks quietly, moving back towards her. His confusion grows into something more concerned when he sees tears start to fill Cara’s blue eyes.

“Why you did it.” She answers, finally looking at him. “Why you liked it.” She shrugs one shoulder, the cigarette gripped loosely between her fingers. “Because I like it too.” Her voice breaks as she struggles to get out the last part, the tears slipping down her cheeks.

It’s like a slap in the face as the understanding hits him hard and fast. He knows what she gets. He knows it all too well. He has the past seven years of knowing. The pull of intoxication. The lure of addiction. He’s not sure how he’s so easily figured out what his teenage daughter is talking about, but he has. And it hurts him more than any withdrawal symptom ever did.

He lowers himself onto the couch next to her, partially to provide comfort and partially because if he doesn’t sit down, he might fall down. “You’re talking about drugs.” It’s not a question. There is no question, especially when she gives a small, guilty nod. “Oh, Cara…”

“I wanted to be stronger than you.” She mumbles and looks to her lap, her cheeks flushing as the tears continue to fall. “I wanted to hate you and be better than you, and show everyone that I  _was_  better than you.” She grinds her cigarette into the ashtray she’d placed on the couch beside her. She shrugs again. “That I could do it a couple times and it would be fine.”

Peeta swallows hard. He shakes his head. “But it’s not fine…”

Sobbing, Cara covers her face with both her hands. Peeta slides closer, gathering her into his arms. She doesn’t resist, letting herself be pulled against his chest. Her hands grip his shirt. She buries her face against the side of his neck, crying in earnest.

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” Peeta whispers, running his hand over her hair soothingly. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“I want it, daddy.” Cara sniffles. “I want it more and more and I’m so scared.”

Peeta shifts so he can look down at her while still letting her rest against his shoulder. “I know. It’s terrifying.” He brushes a strand of dark hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “And I’m so sorry you have to deal with these feelings. I never wanted this for you.”

Cara lets out a humorless laugh. “But it’s what I deserve, right? For wanting to hate you so badly.”

“Absolutely not!” Peeta snaps fiercely, causing Cara to flinch. He squeezes her tightly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout like that.” He whisperes soothingly. “But I don’t want you to think you deserve this. You don’t. No matter how you feel about me, I never wanted you to have this sickness.”

Shifting again, Peeta pulls her away from him so he can look her in the eyes. “But Cara, you shouldn’t be so reckless with this stuff. You  _saw_ first hand what it did to me. What it made me like. You  _know_  what it did to both of your grandmothers. Why would you tempt fate?”

“I’m sorry.” She whispers dejectedly, her gaze averted.

Peeta sighs and tugs her back to his side.  “I know.” He goes back to running his fingers through her hair. “Does your mother know about this?” He can’t imagine that Katniss does. She wouldn’t have kept something like this from him. The shake of Cara’s head confirms it and he let’s out another sigh, this one heavy with foreboding. “I don’t know how she’s gonna take this.” Having just gotten through the worst of it with him, to find out he’s passed the habit onto their child? He’s not sure even Katniss’ unwavering strength won’t give under that kind of revelation.

“She’s gonna hate me.”

Again, Peeta pulls back. He cups her face between his hands. “No, she won’t.” He says firmly, the conviction in his tone matching the look in his blue eyes.

Cara stares back, looking helpless. “How can you be so sure?”

Peeta’s memory flashes back to a few nights prior. When he’d asked Katniss the same thing. She had been so sure that night that Cara would come around in her own time, and she had been right. It is in a way Peeta had never expected or wanted. He is certain Katniss will think the same when she finds out. But he couldn’t think about that now. Not when his daughter needed him. He’s surprised how quickly the urge to run had faded. The instinct that had dominated him for so long, the one that screamed at him to numb it all, held nothing over his instinct to protect his daughter. He knows the same instinct runs deeply in Katniss.

“Because she loves you,” The tears pool in his eyes this time. “Your mother loves you and your brother and sister more than anything else in this world, including me.” He nods and smiles self-deprecatingly. He releases her face and brushes another strand of hair back. “And if she doesn’t hate me after all the  _shit_ I put you guys through, then hating you is impossible.”

After a moment, Cara nods. There’s a look in her eyes that let’s him know she doesn’t quite believe him, but he chooses not to fight it. It’s something she’ll come to understand with experience. He certainly has.

She wipes at her nose with the end of her hoodie sleeve and then settles herself back against Peeta. He begins to rub her back gently, remember it was something that had soothed her often when she was upset. It was a form of comfort she shared with her mother.

“She’s gonna be really upset, though.” Cara mumbles knowingly.

“She will be.” Peeta confirms. “But your mom is the strongest person I know.”

“She says the same thing about you, you know.” She says softly.

Peeta looks towards the ceiling, blinking away his tears. Of course she does. Because Katniss Everdeen hasn’t given up on him, even when she should’ve. Just like he knows she won’t give up on Cara. Or let Cara give up on herself.

And neither will he.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm wrestlerpeeta on Tumblr if you'd like to look me up there.


End file.
